How to Cure the Common Cold
by pen.maiden.myself
Summary: Leo has a cold. Jemma goes into over-protective mode. Maybe all it takes to cure a little cold is a good old mixture of TV and TLC. Hinting at Fitzsimmons. Season one pre-Hydra era. Light and fluffy, great for some lightheardedness during the beginning of season 2. I've never written a fluffy-styled story for this pairing before, so if you have any constructive criticism, review!


Colds. They were bloody awful. That heavy feeling in your chest mixed with a throbbing head was annoying at the best of times, but when you happened to be a SHIELD agent with a Level 5 mission to complete, colds were like hell itself.

Fitz had been bedridden for two days. The engineer's eyes and nose were swollen, his throat was raspy, and his brain felt like a half-fried egg. To put it simply, he wasn't feeling so hot. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have stopped his work for a run-of-the-mill cold, but when it came to his lab partner and best friend, Jemma Simmons, there was no such thing as a sickness too trivial for rest.

"Honestly, Fitz, I look away for twelve seconds. Get back in that bed!"

"Yes, mother." Fitz grumbled and heaved himself back onto his bed with a sigh. "Simmons, why are you working in my bunk? Honestly, it's no different than working in the lab together - except there are more tools in the lab."

"Except we're _not _working together." She corrected him. "You are trying to get better, and I'm simply here for moral support."

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "Just go to the lab, Simmons. You'll get Agent Coulson's job done a whole lot faster with the materials and equipment in there. And if you're going to be stubborn about it, I'll just interface with you from here."

Simmons sighed and punched something into her data pad. "Believe it or not, bantering with you actually elevates my mental processes."

"Really?"

"Of course, really. You don't think I've tested it by now?"

A light smirk snuck over Fitz's face. "Alright then; but at least let me help with _something. _I'm on the verge of rottin' away and dying if I don't get something to -" He suddenly coughed, the reaction convulsing in his chest and making his bones ache.

Simmons shot him an I-told-you-so smile. "Fitz," She walked the few cramped paces from the far wall of his bunk to the bed itself. Plopping herself onto the foot of his bed, she let out a sigh and handed him the data pad. "Listen, I really shouldn't be doing this, but I suppose you aren't giving me a choice. Draw up a carbon-resistant schematic of the -"

"- Triune-winged design." He grinned. "Got it. Now buzz off, Simmons. You're squishing my toes."

"You're squishing my toes." Simmons repeated in a mock Scottish accent, causing Fitz to smack her on the thigh with the data pad. She giggled and darted to the door. In a more serious tone, she continued, "Make sure to let me know if the cold symptoms continue developing. I'll bring you some tea once the designs are complete."

He stuck out his tongue at her motherliness. "Thank you, Simmons."

It took him a little over an hour to finish the rough draft of his designs. Normally, the time allotment would have been a lot smaller: half an hour, tops, if he'd been in a less groggy frame of mind. But the cold was doing more to him than he'd have liked to admit. Not only was his face flushing because of the mental exertion, but he was starting to break out into cold sweats. Maybe Simmons was right. Maybe he did need some rest. He sent off the design to the lab, where he was sure Simmons would see it within seconds. She'd probably been waiting for his design. She'd probably been done her work for a long while now.

Wait, what had he been thinking about?

Fitz growled and smacked his forehead. Ow. That didn't help anything. He could feel the effects of the cold creeping into his neurons and thought processes. Maybe he should contact Simmons over the communications line...

A knock on his bunk door caused Fitz to jerk his head up and focus. "Who's there?" He mumbled, knowing all too well who that tentative knock belong to.

"I'm here with your tea." Simmons opened the door to allow herself in, and then closed it again after setting down two cups of tea on Fitz's nightstand. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," He croaked, lying through the skin of his teeth. "Th-that design... um, did it fit with your schematics?"

She nodded, still puttering around the bunk, tidying up a few pairs of shirts that he'd strewn on the floor in the days gone past. "Yes, it was actually perfect. I was quite surprised that you were able to get such a well-done job completed; considering your nasty head cold and all."

Fitz scoffed. "Of course I did it. Did you doubt my abilities?"

Simmons spun around, her ponytail following her like a mini whirlwind, a cheeky grin plastered to her face. "Remember the last time you got a cold? Fitz, you couldn't even put your socks on properly."

"Oh, shut it." He covered his mouth, a sudden cough emerging from deep in his chest. "If you'd like to tell that story, please remember that that particular cold turned into pneumonia."

He heard Simmons chuckle, but the sound was immediately cut off by a harsh gasp. "Fitz!" She cried, darting to his side. She placed her cool, dry hands on the engineer's forehead. "You're burning up. Did you take any of the medication I gave you?"

He groaned. "Simmons, I -"

"Oh, I shouldn't have made you finish those designs." Anxiety laced Simmons's words, and she frantically grabbed a cup of tea and a little white pill from the nightstand. She sat down on the bed and handed him the objects. "Take this and sip on some tea," she said, "it'll help. After that, maybe you should take a nap. And don't worry about the project, okay? I'll get that finished in absolutely no time."

Obediently, Fitz knocked back the pill - some form of Tylenol, by the chalky taste of it - and gulped down a few sips of the well-brewed tea. "Jemma, please," His tone was gentler this time, less annoyed at the situation and more concerned for his best friend's well-being. "Don't worry about me. In fact, maybe that's part of the problem." When her eyebrows shot up in fear, he mentally cursed himself. "No, not like that! It's just... well, maybe we're overdoing the whole work-then-rest thing. I don't know, it just seems like sitting around doing nothing isn't helping me. It isn't helping either of us." He glanced up at her. Her eyes were downcast, her lips sunken instead of smiling. "What did -" he coughed, then started again. "What did you do with your parents when you had a cold?"

"Fitz, that was so long ago, I..."

"No, really. What did you do then, Jemma?"

Simmons's breathing slowed down, her eyes stopped fluttering around in a nervous haze, and her shoulders relaxed. "Well," she managed, glancing at him. "My dad and I would flip on the telly and watch whatever Doctor Who reruns we could find." A light blush flickered across her cheeks. "It was a rather silly way to spend our time, but it always seemed to do the trick."

Fitz smiled and, both slowly and cautiously, rested his hand on top of hers. "Why don't we try that? The both of us could use a break, and you know it." An idea sparked up in his mind. "Hey! We could stream it from here." He held up the data pad. His head was starting to hurt like hell again. "That way you can pick whatever episode you like."

A slight look of disapproval shadowed over Simmons's face. "But Fitz, what about copyright laws?"

"We're flying over the Atlantic Ocean, Simmons." He grinned at her. "I doubt copyright laws work out here. We're out in no man's land, just you and me, watching a good ol' Doctor Who episode." Okay, perhaps that statement hadn't been _entirely _true, but it was a nice thought.

Her expression soon matched his. "Here, hand me your pillows." She set up a couple of his pillows against the wall, creating a couch-like feel to Fitz's bed. "You get the episode ready. This next forty-five minutes is going to be of complete relaxation." She smiled as she propped herself up on the makeshift couch, and Fitz couldn't help but smile back at her. The excited, kid-in-a-candy-shop sparkle in her eyes almost made him forget about the throbbing pain in head. She was just that distracting.

Well, not like that, but... Fitz shook his head, pulling himself back to reality.

"One Doctor Who episode, coming up."

Maybe a bit of time off was all they'd need to cure the common cold.


End file.
